I write because I don’t say a lot, but I have a lot to say. I write, because someone out there, lost his/her voice, and will know, that they are not all alone. I write, because no matter how still I may appear, there is a fluttering deep down — reverberating — sending waves through my body to my fingertips. I write, because when I write, I defy time, gravity, thieves, lawlessness .. and the chains of insecurity. I write, because when I write, I travel to the very cracks I’ve slipped through, and there, I am found.

Snow flurries and sandcastles

For years, I’ve been referred to as secretive. (I prefer private.)

And I figure today, I will not post from a distance. Meaning, I will not post about what I want to feel, or how I want you to feel. This won’t be a post about my books, characters, or random facts. I’ll write about .. me.

I am that kid playing alone in the sandbox, while everyone else is congregated at the swings, taking turns pushing one another. And when everyone migrates to the sandbox, I somehow find myself tip-toeing over to the swing. The kid who is observing people, and every now and then, I play with one or two others. I’m no misanthrope. And it’s not that I don’t play well with others; I think that I do .. I mean, when I love, I love hard. I may not call every day, but I text and email until you want to wring my neck. And I may not say those three magical words every time I see the people I love, but boy, do my loved ones have my heart.

Back to early childhood. What’s odd, is that when I was a child, I was outgoing. Going places, doing new and fun things, more outspoken, meeting people – I loved it. But the older I got (the older I get) the more reclusive. The one-on-one person; that’s me. Over-thinks every Facebook and Twitter update, for fear of over-sharing or posting something that no one is interested in; that’s me. I’m the girl who created a second Facebook profile — an author profile, so that I am not constantly (over)sharing my writing to old friends and family. I’m that person who, no matter how many people are around me, I feel that I am the only snow flurry mixed in with the rain.

The more people around me, the more removed, the more I retreat. Not intentionally. Not because I think I am better. It’s just … me.

I’m that loner who happens to love people, who loves listening and seeing others content and peaceful. Cue the pity party and violin music and bear with me, but I am also that person who parts her lips to say “I,” and at times, those I care about most, talk right over me. I’m that person who will spend hours listening to every word being said, praying silently for the right response, because that’s what I’d want in return. Many times, I get dead air, rushed replies, or judgmental responses.

And, hey. I don’t need or expect pity!! I know who and how I am, and I know my purpose. I didn’t write this to sound as if I am depressed or to put a damper on your day. My reason for writing this … well, I’m not sure. I just notice that most of the other bloggers and authors talk about themselves and share parts of who they are. I think it’s only fair that if I want to get to know others, I share a little, too.

So whether you read, move on to the next site, care or don’t care, I guess I will give the sharing thing a try more often. And in closing, I will say this – something that I say often: Not everyone is going to see you. Few will actually hear you. Many will judge you.

But if you are that loner, that outcast, that soft-spoken, fragile soul, don’t change. Why would you? To fit in? I guarantee you, you’ll miss out on something remarkable if you change just to fit in. My cousin, my closest friend, is my closest friend because of our quirks. My closest writer buddy is my favorite writer buddy because of our idiosyncrasies.

All I’m saying, is that if you feel too much, you think a lot and over-analyze, you get awkward-happy when your friends share with you their good news, you go inward when people reflect ugliness, you prefer daydreaming alone to useless small-talk, you’d rather paint, sing, or write your own movie to running to an over-crowded theater, you absorb everything around you – good and bad, and carry it like it’s yours: Own that and make it work for you.

Artists are often highly introspective, even those who appear to be extroverted, personality-wise. It’s good that you are embracing who you are, because who you are is a gift. How boring the world would be if we all were the same.

I love how incredibly vulnerable and honest you are in this post. I feel like I got to meet the real you. And I get you! The older I get, the less close friends I seem to need. Thanks for the beautifully written post.

Beautiful post! I was likely the girl in between the sand box & the swings trying to urge you to come play, not realizing you were completely happy and content where you were. I love the many personalities this world brings together!

You were one of many. But thing is, when I was literally a “girl,” I was with the kids at the swing.

Life changes things. Now I’m definitely in my little sandbox. But sometimes it’s good to have people to coax you over to the swings. So long as I can tiptoe back like a kitten whenever I choose to .. (tee-hee)